


For Fox's Sake

by OllyJay



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Hunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 18:23:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10496883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OllyJay/pseuds/OllyJay
Summary: Phryne and Jack are still in America when an 'old friend' invites her to New England to take part in a fox hunt.  She turns up with her own priorities... and JackPlease note no foxes or limbs were harmed in the writing of this fic.





	

“Do keep up Jack!” she called back disappearing from view down a footpath into the woods.

Jack sighed, he hadn’t ridden in many hunts but he was fairly sure you were supposed to follow the dogs, even here in New England. Striking off in a completely different direction on your own seemed more like a wild goose chase. Still watching the last of the hunt leave he suddenly realised he might in fact lose her. Placing his hand on the horse’s neck he spoke softly, “Sorry. It seems neither of us has much choice here.” Hugging the sides of the horse gently with his legs they turned aside moving swiftly to follow her. Jack patted him again grateful for his show of solidarity. Much quicker than he expected she came into view ambling along a hedgerow back towards him.

“I think he’ll come along here, it runs nearly the length of the estate.”

Jack took the opportunity to simply stare at her. She made an elegant picture on her black horse in a dark green riding jacket, white breeches and shiny black boots. With her hair tucked up under her black riding helmet she was displaying an inordinate amount of flawless neck. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, eyes sparkling with mischief, a wide smile on her red lips. Christ, he thought, wild goose chase or not - he’d follow her anywhere. As he drew his horse up beside hers he asked “What exactly are you up to?’

“What we do best, Jack. Protecting the defenceless.”

Jumping off her horse she threw the reins to him and a bottle appeared in her hand. He watched fascinated as she wandered around spreading the scent. “Miss Fisher, are you sabotaging the hunt?” 

She gave him a wicked grin.

He tilted his head and considered her carefully before smiling. “This is without doubt the best hunt I’ve ever been on. You’re sure that he’ll come up here?”

“Not entirely, when I was researching the terrain last night I saw three possible escape routes.” She looked around at her handiwork, “I think I’m done here but we need to get to the others quickly.” She held another bottle out to him.

He took it, “Shall I take the stream or the stone wall?”

She laughed, “I should have known you would see the same thing as me on that map. You take the stream. Barrington mentioned a folly that happens to be conveniently between the two. Why don’t we re-group there?”

He raised his eyebrows. Barrington Forbes was the heir apparent to the estate they were currently hunting on, a man who would never do an honest days work in his life. The hunt party he had collected though was all new money - they did work but honesty was not high on their list of values. Given Barrington had also made his less than honourable intentions towards Phryne abundantly obvious he was not one of Jack’s favourite people. And based on the look he had given him when Phryne laughed at his offer, entwining her fingers with Jack’s, they were unlikely to be exchanging Christmas cards. It was an outcome he was more than comfortable with. “Should we not rejoin the hunt? To avoid suspicion?”

“Jack, I’ve already made it quite clear to anybody on the hunt who matters that my plans for the day have little to do with riding,” she took back her reins, jumping effortlessly into her saddle and letting her mare pace restlessly in a circle so she could fling a look full of promise at him over her shoulder. “Well, riding horses anyway,” she said as she left.

He leaned forward placing his hand on the horse’s neck wanting to ensure the urgency of the situation was fully understood. The sooner he set the false trail the sooner he could get to the folly and he really wanted enough time to explore all the possibilities that location appeared to offer. Once again it was as if the horse could read his mind.

*****  
Her horse was tethered outside when he arrived, he had had to take the trail quite a distance after finding a den, but he didn’t regret it. He took a moment to survey the folly, a scaled down European castle turret complete with mock ruins of what was presumably intended to be the rest of the castle. He shook his head, definitely not his idea of a garden ornament. Leaving his horse beside hers he knocked on the heavy iron clad wooden door. “Phryne?”

“No need to stand on ceremony Jack,” came the response.

He took a deep breath and stepped in. There was only one piece of furniture in the room, a large and sturdy bed. No prizes for guessing why this had come up in Barrington’s conversation then. Phryne, sitting on the edge of the bed, stood to welcome him. Naked. He swallowed hard, “What if someone else had turned up first?”

She shrugged her shoulders, “That would depend entirely on how charming he was.”

“And if it had been a woman?”

Her laughter was like music to him. “In that case Inspector - you would be hoping you got here to join us before the other man.”

He started to unbutton his dark blue riding jacket, moving towards her and throwing it on to the end of the bed, “I hope you’re not too disappointed then, that it’s only me.”

She gazed at him, “I cannot imagine any reality where I would be disappointed to find you wanted to make love to me Jack.” He gave her one of his small shy smiles and her heart skipped a beat remembering all those times she had seen that exact smile and wanted him so badly it had been almost painful. To see him now, hair ruffled where he had run his hands through it after taking off his riding helmet, grinning like a boy who had been up to mischief – white shirt and cravat… those legs encased in beige riding breeches with black boots… Oh, the wonderful ache that inspired. “Lets get rid of that cravat – I know how much you dislike them,” she laughed as she reached towards him.

He grabbed her hands before she could touch him, bringing them to his mouth where he kissed them gently, “Maybe not?”

She raised an eyebrow surely he wasn’t turning her down? Considering her current state that would be unacceptable. A small frown formed on her face. His amused expression suggested he could actually read her mind. Oh, a game then? The frown disappeared and she waited patiently to hear the rules. 

“As I don’t share your enthusiasm for company I’d prefer that one of us was in a state to make it to the door if we are disturbed.” He sighed at the wicked grin she gave him – somehow he had said the wrong thing.

“How do you know Jack? That it’s something you couldn’t get enthusiastic about?”

“Because Miss Fisher, despite your determination to treat me as though I’m some sort of bashful virgin, I am a grown man and fully aware of the available options. I just have never seen the point.”

She gave him an adorable pout, “Perhaps you lack imagination?”

He was determined to get the conversation back to the point, the one his body was very clear on, which was the naked woman standing in front of him. “I have an excellent imagination Miss Fisher,” he pulled her in close to his body, “it just so happens it’s sole interest is you.”

It would have been a lie to pretend she didn’t find his single-minded devotion thrilling. “Exactly how does your imagination want me then Inspector?” she asked looking him directly in the eyes as she ground herself against him enjoying the way his eyes closed as she did so. “And it better involve me removing these damn breeches of yours,” she muttered darkly.

He chuckled at her one-track mind, thrilled to be the current… no, thrilled to be the focus of it. He opened his eyes and let himself fall into the challenge in hers “By all means feel free to help me get more comfortable,” he said as he pushed down gently on her shoulders, “don’t take them all the way off though.”

“Yes Jack, I get it, you’re expecting company,” she huffed as she lowered herself to her knees, “but in case you're confused I didn’t exactly invite you here to protect your honour.” She placed her hands firmly on his buttocks rubbing her face against the clear outline of his cock, finding and massaging the head gently with her lips through the material. She smiled to herself when his hands came down to rest on her head as her fingers deftly undid the buckles on the side of his breeches. Slipping her hands inside she pushed them down far enough to release him completely from the confines of the material. She smirked, the risk of being caught had not diminished his ardour in any way, perhaps even increased it. Nuzzling in to him she enjoyed the silky texture of this, his most unprotected skin, against the softness of her cheeks.

He started to breathe hard, “Damn it but I love it when you tease me.”

“What do you want Jack?” she purred.

“Your mouth on me, around me, wet and warm,” he pleaded.

“Like this?” she opened her mouth sinking down on to him.

“Yes…” he gasped, struggling not to buck into her, his fingers instinctively curling in her hair. “Your tongue… please… I want…” 

She undulated her tongue under his cock, enjoying his sharp intake of breath and then slowly circled him. The sounds he made suggested that he was rather keen on this approach and she was happy to admit that the taste of Jack Robinson had quickly become one of her favourite flavours. When she felt he was sufficiently lubricated with saliva she pulled back until she had just the head in her mouth and began to stroke him smoothly with her hand. Then removing her mouth completely she increased the length and speed of her strokes and looked up at him.

His eyes were shut, lips parted, hips thrusting forward into her hand. He opened his eyes to find her watching him. He moved one hand to the side of her face to run his thumb over her lips. She licked out with her tongue before opening her mouth invitingly. Groaning he pushed his thumb into the warmth of her mouth where she laved it with her tongue before sucking on it strongly. The sound he made was almost obscene and his hips bucked hard breaking his rhythm.

“I… fuck Phryne… need to stop… want… inside you…” 

She released his thumb from her mouth and nodded, slowing the movement of her hand. “Why don’t you take a seat on the bed here beside me,” she suggested. He did so but when he made to remove his boots, she placed her hand on his, “No.” As he opened his mouth to protest, she smirked, “I didn’t make the rules – I’m only enforcing them.” She placed her hand on his knee pushing herself up till she was standing. 

He gazed at her lost in the way the shadows played across her body. 

“Touch me,” she said as she moved to stand between his legs.

He glanced up to see her eyes blazing, mouth open with just the tip of her tongue visible as it moved across those red lips. The thought that his cock had known the wet warmth of her mouth just moments ago – his breath caught and he felt himself grow rock hard again. He lowered his eyes to her rose tipped breasts aching to take them in his mouth, to run his tongue around and over their hard peaks. Letting his eyes drop even further he could see her hip bones and the slight hollows they created either side of the gentle outward curve of her belly. He took a deep breath luxuriating in the scent of her – it never ceased to amaze him that such an experienced woman would find him exciting. She had seen and done things that he had never even contemplated. But sometimes, he thought as he raised his left hand to cradle her breast, simple straightforward desire was every bit as memorable. And of that, for her, he had an inexhaustible supply.

She gasped as he covered her nipple with his mouth, his tongue lightly tracing around it. He pulled back slightly drawing in a breath that brought a rush of cold air across her sensitive skin then, before she had time to adjust, she was surrounded by the warmth of his mouth again, suckling her with just the right pressure. “Jack,” she murmured, “always so good,” her hands coming up to hold his head to her. She felt his other hand stroking between her legs, heard his warm sound of appreciation when he discovered how wet she was and waited with anticipation for him to push his fingers inside her. When he did she let out a long low moan, which was answered immediately by one from him. He paused for a moment in his ministrations to her nipple and she knew he was savouring the feel of her around his fingers.

He moved to her other breast and she felt the delightful sensations all over again but this time enhanced by his hand between her legs, now thrusting into her, now withdrawing to tease her clitoris, then inside her again. It was divine but she quickly found it wasn’t enough, “I need more.” When he withdrew his hand she made a strangled sound of loss but quickly climbed onto the bed straddling him, hand reaching between her legs to hold him steady as she lowered herself slowly down on him. She placed one hand on his shoulder and caressed the side of his face with the other, “Look at me Jack.”

His head shot up immediately. Sometimes when they made love he wondered if it mattered who he was, whether any man would do as well but when she used his name like this? It meant everything to him. He stared into her eyes, pupils dilating as she slid all the way down him and back. “Phryne,” he rumbled his hands clutching her buttocks, encouraging her movements. “I’m not going to last long,” he warned.

“Doesn’t matter, neither am I,” she admitted, “I can’t get enough of you. The more I have - the more I want.” Her eyes burned into him, “What is it about you Jack?” she asked as she lifted herself up only to sink back on him. “Why do I want you so much?”

He had no answer. It was an even bigger mystery to him but the sight of the pleasure she was taking from him as she rose and fell on him, the obvious desire that he could hear in her voice… these were as erotic as the wet tight heat that enclosed him and he swallowed hard trying to hold on.

“Look at you, no one has ever wanted me the way you do.”

He shook his head, “Everybody wants you,” he managed as she moved relentlessly above him. 

“Not like you… they lust for me… want to control me… want to brag of having had me.” She ran her fingers across his cheekbone, “But you, you just want me.”

He nodded, “Just you…” he was struggling now, so close but desperate not to come before her.

“I want you too Jack - just you here, with me, always.”

She lowered her head to catch his lips, kissing him so hard he fell back on to the bed and he lost his control. But it didn’t matter because he could feel her tightening around him and he knew those sounds now, the ones she made. When she collapsed on top of him, he could feel her hot breath on his neck, the perspiration on her body and he allowed himself a small triumphant smile as he wrapped his arms around her.

She lifted her head, suddenly alert, “They’ve lost the trail.”

He gave a lazy slow smile. On hearing the mournful baying of the hounds another sense of achievement swept through him.

She waited for realisation to hit his bliss-blurred brain, springing quickly to the side when she saw the penny drop.

“Shit! They must be literally outside.” He shot off the bed, scrambling to get himself into some semblance of decency. 

She reclined on the bed enjoying his panic. She had no fear of unwanted company. Had they been in Britain the riders would politely ignore the horses tethered outside, here brash new money would simply give a knowing glance with perhaps a frisson of envy. It was only in the Antipodes, where people carried within them an innate sense of loneliness born of too few people spread across too many empty spaces, that complete strangers would barge in unannounced expecting friendly conversation and baked goods. She looked at him struggling to pull tight breeches over damp skin and wondered if he did indeed have his secret stash of biscuits with him. Sensing her eyes on him he looked up from where clumsy fingers fumbled with the fastenings of his breeches, flustered and slightly breathless – looking like a naughty boy caught doing something he knew he really shouldn’t. She smiled, how utterly gorgeous. It was his contradictions she adored; the calm, competent detective; the sweet, caring man; and the sometimes naive but always sensual lover – he really was an endless mystery to her. 

“If it helps, your cravat is absolutely perfect,” she told him.


End file.
